Her Blue-Eyed Lieutenant (Soldiers 0f Swing Book 3)

by Linda Ellen

  “Mmm,” Julie answered. Catching Miss Warren’s eye and realizing she should probably put herself back into circulation, she nodded at her.

  “I need to get back out there, but we’ll talk later, okay?”

  “You bet,” he grinned as he turned in his seat and watched her make her way back to the dance floor.

  Immediately, a buff marine asked her to dance and swept her into his arms for the bulk of the Tommy Dorsey version of Once in a While.

  The last she saw of Gary’s face, he didn’t look especially happy.

  Gary watched the big marine squire Julie around the dance floor and fought against a strong desire to march out there and yank her away. He needed to get a hold of himself and he scrambled for control, but such a feeling of possessiveness rose up inside him that he thought he would choke on it. His jaw began to ache from clamping his teeth together.

  At that moment, he knew. He was head over heels in love with her. With Julie Banks. Lovely, sweet, and innocent Julie Anne Banks.

  Watching as she smiled politely at something the leatherneck said, Gary made himself breathe slowly in through his nose, and back out again. He loved her. When had it happened? Like a newsreel, images of each occasion where he and Julie had talked and danced flickered across the screen of his mind. Gene and Viv’s wedding? Steve and MJ’s? The evening the six of them spent together in his hotel room? Or was it somewhere over the weeks of exchanging letters?

  He shook his head. I don’t know when it happened, but it did. But for the love of Pete, what’s Gene gonna think? Immediately, his mind replayed the stern warning Steve had given him at Gene and Viv’s reception about Julie being Gene’s “baby” sister. But, good gravy, Julie was an adult, she wasn’t a baby! She could make her own decisions. She’s living on her own now…well, at least, she moved away from her parents…and is holding down a job. She certainly wasn’t a child. Maybe I should talk to Gene…sound him out, see what he really thinks…all he’s said to me is that he’s glad his sister kept her promise to write to me…

  As he ruminated, the song ended and the band launched into a swinging rendition of Benny Goodman’s Goody, Goody! Gary searched the dancers and found Julie being swung and jived by a tall army corporal. Julie kept right up with him, laughing and obviously enjoying herself. When the soldier turned his way, Gary almost fell off his chair. The guy was good-looking…matter of fact, he looked just like a young version of Tyrone Power. Gary blinked and focused again. Yep. He sure did. Something about that struck a chord in his memory, but he couldn’t place his finger on it.

  Of their own volition, Gary’s feet pushed back from the table and he stood, finding himself drifting over to the edge of the onlookers where he could watch Julie and Tyrone Junior up close.

  Thankfully, it was a relatively short song, and the band transitioned fluidly into Benny Goodman’s Moonglow. Gary wasted no time, but slid strategically up next to the “couple” and sent the other fellow a look. It must have worked because Tyrone glanced at Gary’s face as if in recognition, then the bars on his shoulders, and did a double-take, automatically snapped an unneeded salute, since they were all off duty, and mumbled, “Lieutenant,” as he moved smartly back one step.

  Gary saluted back, stifling the grin that wanted to take over his face. Inside, he was thinking, Hmm, this officer thing really has its advantages.

  Smoothly taking Julie in his arms, he brought his cheek next to hers and twirled them both around in time with the tune. “This band’s Killer Diller, and they’re sure playing a lot of great Goodman songs tonight.”

  “Mmm, yes. I love his music, and this is one of my favorites,” she murmured near his ear. “I was so glad for a slow song. Mack about wore me out,” she added with a soft giggle.

  “Mack?” Gary asked. “You mean Tyrone Power’s twin?” Then it popped in his head who it was. “Oh yeah…he’s in Gene’s unit, isn’t he…Makowski I think it is.”

  She laughed lightly. “Yes. Isn’t he amazing? All of the girls talked about him and said he hasn’t been in for a while—and tonight he shows up and I get to dance with him. He’s quite the hoofer. Everyone says he should send a photo of himself to Mr. Power, just for laughs.”

  Gary tamped down his jealousy and merely mumbled.

  They were quiet for a few bars of the song and then Julie asked, “So…what are your plans for your leave? Are you going to work?”

  “Work? You mean at the plant?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  Gary let out a snort. “At this moment, I don’t even want to think about going in. All I want to do is relax. Relax for the first time in seventeen long, bone-tiring, brain-wearying weeks.”

  “Well, you deserve it, that’s for sure,” she returned. “I…we’re all so proud of you, Gary,” she added sweetly, unconsciously squeezing his hand a bit tighter.

  “Thanks…that means a lot,” he answered, resisting the urge to nuzzle his face in her hair and sigh in pleasure. Wondering what brand of perfume she was wearing, he thought about asking, but nixed it. He racked his brain to think of some way to find out what she was feeling about him without coming right out and asking like a lovesick teen.

  Finally, he blurted, “So…you doing anything tomorrow…after church?”

  “I’m not sure,” she hedged.

  He loosened his grip and pulled back to look in her eyes, fondly thinking they always reminded him of pine trees shimmering in the sun.

  “Not sure?”

  She gazed up at him, flashing an impish, dimpled smile, before clarifying, “Yeah, see…my best friend just graduated from Officer Training School and he promised me in a letter that he would take me to Fountain Ferry to celebrate…but so far, I haven’t heard anything from him.”

  He stared into her eyes for a moment, watching the amusement dancing in the background, and then tipped back his head and laughed.

  “Well, ma’am,” he began when he collected himself. “Let me correct that oversight right now. Miss Julie Banks, would you do me the honor of going with me to the amusement park, Fountain Ferry, tomorrow…to celebrate my living through Bigelow’s Torture Camp?”

  She grinned up at him and wiggled her eyebrows fetchingly.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Julie and the girls, along with their soldiers whose uniforms had gotten them in for free, had been playing games, riding rides, and walking around at Fontaine Ferry Park for hours; although, Viv, being in the family way, had to opt out of much of it, constraining herself to the sidelines where she could watch. In fairness, they made sure every other activity was something she could do. The five had spent an hour in Hilarity Hall, taking trips down both the Bumpy Slide and the Double Slides multiple times, braving the challenging Ever-Rolling Barrel, and spinning until they were dizzy on the Sugar Bowl ride, laughing until their bellies hurt. Viv had almost as good a time laughing at her husband, the teetotaling, ever-distinguished First Sergeant Banks, stumbling and falling like he was three sheets to the wind.

  With all of the stresses of life during a world war—with rationing, the ever-worsening news detailing the fighting “over there”, and the uncertainties of what the future would be, for all of them—it felt good to just relax and act like kids again. Julie couldn’t remember ever having had a more enjoyable day.

  The guys had been the subject of quite a few stares and much attention from people who were fascinated by the spectacle of three identical soldiers side by side. A few even asked to take their picture, which the triplets smilingly obliged with arms slung over one another’s shoulders. Julie couldn’t blame them, for she had a hard time keeping her eyes from straying in their direction, as well. Correction…straying in one’s direction.

  Granted, they were identical, but for Julie, as for the other girls, it was very easy to tell the men apart. To Julie’s astute gaze, she could see that Gene still retained a bit of his farm-boy bulk, Steve seemed leaner and still possessed a hint of a street-wise tough, and
Gary…well, to her, Gary was Mr. Perfect. As it had been at the dance the night before, his uniform was creased, shined, and tucked to perfection…and she might be a bit prejudiced, but she thought of the three, he had the bluest eyes. They never failed to remind her of glimpses of summer skies amid pure white fluffy clouds.

  Now, as the group walked away from yet another family with small children wanting to know the story of the triplet brothers serving in the army, Julie laughed as the guys grumbled good-naturedly about people’s fascination with their “tripletness” and how it was both a source of pride and fun, as well as a cause of aggravation. Steve went so far as to gripe that he finally understood why some identical siblings insisted on dressing radically different from one another.

  Chuckling, they headed to one of the many snack stands and purchased six large, pink fluffy bales of cotton candy. As the sun drifted lower in the afternoon sky, Mary June took a hold of her husband’s sleeve and began to tug him over to a nearby bench on the park’s main thoroughfare.

  “I’ve just gotta sit down, babe. These dogs of mine are howlin’ up a storm,” she sighed as she plopped down on the seat and stretched her feet out in front.

  “You’re not kidding,” Viv echoed as she sank down next to her friend.

  Julie watched with a fond smile as her lovely blonde sister-in-law settled herself on the bench, knowing that even though Viv wasn’t showing yet, she was already feeling the effects of growing a tiny, precious little Banks inside. Viv then scooted over a bit and patted the surface as she addressed Julie. “Here, honey, there’s room. Take a load off.”

  Julie sat down with a grateful sigh, and then carefully took a pinch off the flavored spun sugar puff that Gary had just purchased for her. Although she had hid it well all day, she wished they had come alone like they had originally planned. But when Steve had found out, he asked if he and Mary June could come along—and then Gene and Viv hopped on the bandwagon, as well. Part of Julie understood that the brothers had a lot of years to catch up on and wanted to spend time together…especially since Gary would soon leave to undertake the rest of his training and no one was sure when they would see him again, but she couldn’t help feeling just a tad selfish. She couldn’t help but wonder if Gary welcomed the company…or if he’d wished the same thing she had.

  Now, as Gene crouched down in front of his wife with a possessive hand on her knee and an adoring gaze up at her face as he asked for the umpteenth time that day if she was “all right”, and Steve perched on the bench’s wrought iron armrest near Mary June, showing concern for her fatigue, Gary flanked the girls on Julie’s side and she wished with all her heart that they too were a couple, not just best friends. Surreptitiously, she watched him as he stepped toward a large tree whitewashed on the bottom four feet of its trunk like all of the other towering trees in the Victorian-styled amusement park, and relaxed against it, slipping one hand in his pocket as he eyed his own sugary treat and planned his attack to avoid sticky residue on his face.

  “I’ve got a question,” he mumbled as he took a bite.

  “What’s that, bro?” Steve replied.

  “Why does everyone call this place Fountain Ferry, when the name over that ornate twin-spired entrance reads Fontaine Ferry Park?”

  Mary June giggled and shook her head. “Beats the heck outta me. It’s just what everyone calls it. Fontaine is harder to say, maybe… You know, with our ‘Kentucky twang’ it comes out, ‘Fount’n Ferry,” she added with a snort.

  “I’ve always thought it’s because of the big fountain over there,” Viv supplied, pointing in the direction of the huge pool with the massive cascading waterfall feature.

  “Mama said one time it was because they used to have a big soda fountain where you could get ice cream sodas…” Julie offered, and Gene nodded in agreement.

  “Ok, but what’s the story behind the name, anyway? Remember, I’m the new kid in town,” Gary chuckled.

  “I can tell you about that if you like, son,” a voice spoke up from the other side of Gary.

  Six pairs of eyes swiveled toward a short little man with rather wild, silvery hair resembling a pale version of the confectionary treat in their hands, slightly disheveled clothing, a bushy mustache, and dark beady eyes that darted from one face to the next. The type her mother would deem a character. As he took a puff from an ornate pipe and gave them a crooked smile, he instantly reminded Julie of a photograph she had once seen of the famed scientist Albert Einstein.

  “Yeah, sure, Mister,” Steve answered. “But who are you?”

  Tilting his chin up, the man grasped the lapel of his coat with one hand, proclaiming with a pronounced southern accent, “My name is Albert Thruston, young man,” as if the group should recognize the name. Taking the pipe from his mouth, he added, “My grandfather was Senator Buckner Thruston,” as if that explained everything. Julie glanced at Gene, but he furtively shrugged one shoulder.

  The old man merely raised a shaggy eyebrow, and then absently reached up to stroke his mustache as if he were amazed they didn’t recognize the name.

  “Well, anyway, the history of this illustrious pleasure garden is rather involved, so for the sake of time I’ll just give you some of the highlights. You see, it is called Fontaine Ferry Park because the land on which it was built was originally part of an elegant riverfront estate owned by Colonel Aaron Fontaine, a distinguished Virginia militiaman who had settled here about 1798 with his twelve children.”

  He paused to gather his thoughts and his expression changed to one of muse like fondness. Tapping his pipe empty against the back of the tree on which Gary was leaning, Thruston reached into an inner coat pocket to retrieve a pouch of tobacco, and absently began to refill it.

  “Col. Fontaine was a bonafide southern gentleman of the old school whose type has long since passed away. It is said of the old colonel that he was always meticulously dressed, and was particularly courteous and polite to everyone with whom he came in contact—exceptionally so to his wife, whom he always addressed as Mrs. Fontaine,” he chuckled as if he’d heard the old man do so, many times. Upon seeing the looks exchanged by his audience, he cleared his throat and smoothed his fingers again over his bushy mustache.

  “But I digress… Col. Fontaine purchased a nearby ferry service landing and flatboat, which was originally called Carter’s Ferry—and predates the first Ohio River Bridge by 70 years, by the way—and immediately renamed it, Fontaine’s Ferry. The name has, as they say, stuck. His family then took over the operation of ferrying paying customers across to the Indiana side of the river and back. It is said that he was quite the businessman and always looking for a way to expand his coffers.” Thruston paused with an indulgent smile. “I’ve often imagined all sorts of clandestine adventures in which the younger Fontaine lads might have taken part—for example, during the War Between the States, as it is widely bandied about that several in the family were closet abolitionists.” He chuckled and struck a match to relight his pipe, taking the time for several puffs and smiling in satisfaction.

  Eying his audience again, the old man shook his head as if to get back on track. “Where was I? Oh yes, then sometime in the 1880’s, an entrepreneur…his name escapes me…purchased the landing site and a few surrounding acres, on which he built a riverside hotel, outdoor restaurant, bandstand, and a world-class, one-third-mile bicycle racetrack. I’ve seen photographs and it was quite ‘in vogue’ as they say. People came from near and far to visit and it became, as they say, the thing to do. By 1903, the area had gained the attention of none other than John Willard—the man who designed Palisades Park in New York—and recognizing the potential, he began construction of the amusement park you see today,” he swept a hand at their surroundings, “retaining the Fontaine name out of respect for the old colonel, perhaps.”

  “Immediately, throngs of visitors began to arrive by steamboat, which you young people may have done today, debarking at the tiny beach with its pontoon landing at the end of Market Street. Or pe
rhaps you came in an open-sided ‘summer car’ trolley?” he asked, bushy eyebrows elevated as he looked back and forth between his listeners.

  Quite caught up in the story, Julie exchanged glances with the others, and was surprised to see they all seemed to be trying to hide their amusement regarding the eccentric little man. She answered for them all, “You’re right, Mr. Thruston, we did ride the trolley, and we planned to catch the Idlewild back later tonight.”

  His eyes glistened and with a nod, he added, “I’d wager you’re unaware that the trolley lines out there provide the power for the park and all of the lights and rides and such, and that the owners don’t even pay for it, which is mighty generous, actually.”

  “How do you know all this, mister?” Mary June suddenly asked.

  Thruston eyed her, his expression hinting at unknown mysteries. “Perhaps, young lady, because I’m a professor of history at the University of Louisville. Or perhaps…because Col. Fontaine was my great, great, great uncle…thrice removed.”

  As the mouths of the six dropped open, he raised his pipe in salute, “Good day to you,” and went on his way whistling, Oh, Susanna!

  The group watched him go and then turned to face one another again, with Mary June, in typical MJ fashion, blurting out with a choking snort what they were all thinking. “Heavens to Betsy! Daddy always says it takes all kinds of characters to make the world go round, and this town’s got more ‘characters’ than a dime novel.”

  The others laughed as Julie quipped, “Well, now at least we know why it’s called, “Fontaine Ferry Park, and not Fountain Ferry.”

  “That, we do,” Gary agreed, still watching the little man amble away, raising his pipe and nodding to each person he passed. “I know I’ll not soon forget Mr. Thruston and his larger-than-life ancestors.”